


Tricks on Me

by Rrrowr



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:17:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrrowr/pseuds/Rrrowr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki walks out onto the stage, decked out in heels and lingerie and not much else, the bachelor party at the end of the runway. That kind of thing is usually a joke, but the bachelor in question is Thor — bold, blond, and not inclined to disappear from Loki's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tricks on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://rrrowr.tumblr.com/post/17268583740)

Loki can tell from the second he struts on stage that the reserved section of the audience is a bachelor party — here for a joke, if the startled reaction of the big crowned blond in the center of the crowd is any indication. Loki isn't offended. It doesn't matter to him  _why_  they're here so long as they pay up. He dances. He treats the whole audience to a taste, but most of his focus is on the bachelor party. He lets them shove each other to the stage to tuck bills in the elastic of his underwear, in his garter belt, in his shoes. The blond — the crown has the name  _Thor_ scrawled across it in glitter — gets up with a twenty, and for that Loki lets him slide his huge palm over his calf before he tucks it into the back of his stocking. 

It's a good night. Loki earns a lot, and the bachelor party is rambunctious while still managing to be considerate. They may push the resources of their bartender a bit, but they make up for it with an open tab, tipping heavily, and drinking heartily. There's always good money in parties like theirs, but Loki doesn't bother committing faces or names to memory, no matter how much they like his lap dances. It's unlikely that he'll ever see any of them ever again — that goes doubly so for the fiance, Thor.

Except that he does see Thor again. He's big and blond and difficult to miss even in a smoky, ill-lit joint like this. He doesn't come to the stage. He stays at the bar and drinks, quiet and somber without his posse of supporters at his elbow, and he watches Loki while he dances with an intense, unshakable gaze. Loki ends the night on edge, but when Thor approaches on the tail end of his dance with a twenty between two fingers, it's not enough to make Loki flee in the other direction before Thor can push the bill into his garter belt. Loki doesn't greet him, but smiles sweetly and swaggers as he leaves the stage. Safe with distance, he watches Thor from behind the curtains as he hovers at the end of the stage and leaves before the next dancer takes the limelight. 

Seeing Thor a second time is curious, but not alarming. He's got his theories on why Thor's here and he likes exactly none of them. Every last one of them is a pain in the ass to handle and he _can_ handle them, but he doesn't actually want to. Especially when Thor shows up for the third night in the row. Seeing him again — with none of his friends and more drinking and more staring and more money in Loki's garter — has Loki sticking a heel on the edge of the stage instead of leaving directly and saying, "What do you want?"

"I'd like to talk," says Thor.

Loki doesn't look at him. He's pulling money from his waist band and counting it, but he says: "I'm not interested in sob stories, identity crises, or commitment issues. Go home, Thor."

Thor stands, smiling — excited. "So you do remember me!"

"Don't make it anything special," Loki tells him with a grimace.

But Thor puts a hand to his chest. "I swear, my intentions are honest. I only want to talk."

"Did you tell your fiancee that too?" Loki asks, looking pointedly toward the ring that Thor still wears on his left hand. He doesn't mean to be outright cruel and the way Thor's face shifts through confusion to sadness as he looks at his hand — as if he'd forgot the engagement ring was even there — moves Loki to pity, but the last thing he wants is to be a home wrecker. "Get out of here or I'm calling the bouncer."

Thor leaves.

*

But Thor comes back. He comes back and there's no engagement ring, no wedding ring — just his thumb rubbing against the underside of his finger as he watches Loki dance.

*

It's probably just pity.

In fact, it's more than likely pity, but Loki's loneliness is just as likely to be a factor. See, Loki likes attention, and he likes it best from big, beefy men who think they're straight until they see him in stocking, lace, and three-inch stilettos. He likes it from men with sad eyes because he can make them forget whatever it is that's so depressing. He's been told it's a complex — something about revenge for being bullied for his pretty face while in primary school — but if it is, Loki can't say he minds.

So maybe it's a complex or maybe it's pity or maybe it's loneliness. Whatever it is, when Loki sees Thor sitting on the curb outside the club, it's what makes him pull his car alongside and give Thor a long look. Thor sits on the edge of the sidewalk and returns his gaze with these big, blue eyes. He's practically overflowing with longing.

Loki sighs and unlocks the passenger side door.

Thor scrambles in like an excited dog, glad to be let in out of the rain. "Where are we going?" he asks — as if he has no designs on Loki's future at all.

Maybe he doesn't.

"Your place," Loki says.

"Why?" Thor asks. It's not a protest.

Loki tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "Because I don't want you knowing where I live."

*

And yet, and yet—

He doesn't want Thor to know where he lives. He doesn't want Thor's phone number. He doesn't want to know Thor's last name or the name of the person he was planning on marrying. He doesn't want to know if his friends are disappointed in him or if they know that Thor comes to Loki's club nearly every night.

And yet—

Yet he'll let himself learn the contours of Thor's body. He'll arch against the rough scrape of his palms. He'll scratch at Thor's shoulders and moan into Thor's ear as he's taken. He'll let Thor cover him in kisses and even return a few before he grabs Loki's ankle and brings it to his mouth. Loki will let Thor learn his entire body, but he doesn't want to talk. 

*

Thor talks.

He presses soft praises into Loki's skin with his kisses. Things like, "so beautiful" and "so soft" — each as reverent and superficial as Loki expects out of a purely physical, purely _obsessive_ relationship. Thor touches Loki for a long time after they're done, and while his palms sweep low on Loki's belly or gently cover his cock, he murmurs into Loki's hair the softest confessions. 

"I will never forget the first time I saw you dance. It was like a battle. You enjoyed making the men mad with lust and having to beat them back."

Loki wishes that Thor wouldn't say anything. He doesn't want to be analyzed by someone who only knows him in bed. So he turns in Thor's arms and kisses him to make him quiet. "I didn't beat you back," he says, which is — he realizes later — another in a long line of slip ups, but he doesn't notice then because Thor smiles at him, brilliant and dimpled and handsome.

"Yes, that's true," agrees Thor — that's when Loki realizes his mistake.

*

He manages to avoid Thor for a grand total of one week, which is a lot less than he was hoping for. He's pleaded sick and tired and family troubles and being busy. Thor — perhaps oblivious, perhaps not — does not push, though he makes his worry obvious, but by the end of the week, the longing in Loki's chest has grown into a feeling near-palpable on his skin.

By the end of the week, when he walks out of the club and finds Thor standing on the curb, Loki launches into his arms without hesitation — heels and all. That night, they fuck as if it were the first time again, but this time he speaks. He says a whole slew of things. They follow Thor's name like a cloak, and they dress his moans in jewels. 

"Tell me what you want," Thor gasps as his hand scoops behind Loki's waist. He cants Loki's hips upward with one arm and slides in harder, deeper than before, and Loki cries out, clinging to Thor's shoulders as the truth is pulled from his chest:

"You," he says. "I want you."


End file.
